Pulling back, she smiled and handed him the bottle with the
gray ribbon. The spell broke as soon as he took it, and he suddenly remembered
he was in the middle of a crowded fair. “Now you take good care of that,” the
woman said, winking. She began to withdraw behind a curtain and into her tent.
“Wait! What’s your name?” Edwin cried.
“Gretchen,” she called back over her shoulder.
And she was gone. Stunned, Edwin stood there until someone
bumped into him. The first chance he got he stopped to rest in the small space
between two tents. When he lifted the ribbon to his eyes he felt heat coming
off the bottle. With his teeth he pulled his glove off his hand and held the
bottle tight. The liquid looked thick, like honey, but otherwise it seemed
normal, save the strange heat that made his hand tingle. Careful not to spill
any, he pulled off the quark, curious to know what was inside.
Suddenly the ribbon came to life, flapping towards him and
wrapping itself around his hand. The potion crawled out from the bottle and
melted into the gray ribbon. As quick as a snake, it slithered up his arm and
to his blanket, which Edwin pulled off like it was on fire, but he was
unharmed. In fact, the ribbon had attached itself to two corners of his
blanket, giving him something to tie. If he were taller, it would almost look
like a proper cloak.
* * *
The woman who had given Edwin the charm was nowhere to be
found. As he wandered from tent to tent, he saw jesters and magic tricks, food
and sweets of every kind, and wonders like nothing he had ever seen. When he
stumbled across a mule tied up by one of the tents, he stopped to pet its
muzzle. Suddenly his spirit was at his ear, purring, “Mmm… good.”
“You’re back! Where’d you go?”
“Not sso loud,” the spirit replied. “I was finding our
backup plan, but it looks like we may not need it.”
“What can we do here? Look at all these people.”
“Join with me and keep looking,” his spirit said. “If you
don’t find anything, release me after you leave the fair, and I will show you
our backup plan.”
Edwin said the words of joining, and the spirit’s essence
filled his body. He did as his spirit suggested and began fighting his way
through the crowd to look for life, but he only made it past a few tents when
he stopped dead in his tracks. He knew Sam had seen him first. When their eyes
met, Sam’s head was already cocked to the side questioningly. Then, behind Sam,
Edwin caught sight of Headmistress Vanora.
Edwin stood there a moment, dumbfounded, knowing he was
about to get into huge trouble, when a ball of fire suddenly exploded between him
and Sam, coming out of nowhere. Confused he ducked down and backed away, hoping
Vanora didn’t see him. He had only made it a few steps back when the ground began
shaking and he stumbled first over a tent stake, then over a barrel. He was so
shocked he almost cried out for help, but then he realized this was an
opportunity. Not knowing where the fire had come from or what had caused the
ground to shake, he tried to stand up to get a better look, but a sudden gust
of wind knocked him back to the ground. Not trying to stand again, he crawled
backwards until he found himself in a yellow tent with red stripes. The last
thing he saw before a heavy drape fell in front of him was a wave of water
dousing the fire.
It was a small tent and a heavy cloud of incense hung in the
air. Gold, silver, and copper colored cloth was strung along the ceiling, thick
furs covered the walls, and pillows littered the floor. Surrounded by so much
color, at first Edwin didn’t even notice the woman sitting with her back to
him. Her hair, thick and long with black and gold streaks, blended in with her
fabrics.
Slowly, she turned her head to face Edwin, and he saw that
her face was remarkable only in that it was wholly unremarkable. It had all the
characteristics of a face, but it appeared empty, like a blank canvas. Her eyes
were like pools of clear water, and her alabaster skin looked like it was
better suited for a doll than a flesh and blood woman.
“S-sorry for disturbing you,” Edwin said, trying to back
out, but he couldn’t find the opening to the tent. The woman rose and glided
towards him, close enough that Edwin could feel her breath. She had long
fingernails, and he shuddered as she brushed them against his face.
“What are you doing here, little one?” Her voice was soft,
accented, and deep with meaning, like the earth itself was talking to him.
“No-nothing,” he replied. It was strange that he was
stuttering with the spirit in him, but something about her blank face and
bewitching stare terrified him. “I s-should really be leaving.”
Her nail lightly followed the gray ribbon hanging around his
cloak. “Don’t be so quick to leave. Come, have your fortune read.”
“I spent all my money already,” he lied.
“That’s not true, little one, but worry not, this reading is
free.” The airiness of her voice made his skin crawl. “Come, sit down.”
Edwin looked back over his shoulder at the way he’d come
while she led him to a group of pillows. Timidly, he sat down. The woman
grabbed his gloved hands decisively, but so softly that he didn’t wince.
“Don’t!” he yelled. Then, more calmly, he said, “Don’t take
off my gloves, please.”
“I can’t do this without touching you, little one. But as
you wish.”
With one hand she reached into a pocket in her dress and
pulled out a vial, while with her other hand she grabbed Edwin’s hand and ran
her own up his arm and under his sleeve. At her touch the hair on his arm stood
on end. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath that shook her whole body,
and then whispered words that Edwin couldn’t understand. A breeze entered the
tent, from where Edwin couldn’t guess, making the strands of cloth overhead
sway as she removed the cork from the vial with her teeth. A moment passed, and
she reopened her eyes; she looked wild, her nails bit into his skin, and she
began moaning. Her voice ethereal, she croaked,
“The mahr.”
Liquid began to crawl its way up the ribbon that hung
from the vial, and Edwin recognized it as one of Gretchen’s charms. Coming
alive, the ribbon unwound itself and flew into the air, becoming a liquid fire
that danced around the room.
The woman was muttering in a strange language as her other
hand had found his, and though Edwin tried to pull away, she held him tight.
“What’s happening?” he shrieked, looking from her to the ribbon. Blood began
trickling from his arm where her nails pierced his skin, and from the blood
rose strange flaming symbols like nothing he had ever seen. The symbols swirled
around the tent, more appearing from the blood every second, but as they burned
they fell back to his arm, flashed in letters he knew, and sunk into his skin.
The spirit panicked inside him—he tried to pull away, but that only made
the blood flow faster. He didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow his
spirit was subdued, trapped and powerless, bound by her words.
As the last of the line of symbols disappeared into his
skin, time seemed to stop for a moment, and he felt a weird sensation in his
stomach as the words muttered by the woman came into focus.
“Thirteen mahrs
rose from the ashes of the Falling, twelve to follow, one to rule them all…”
And then she was speaking normally. “I see you, Edwin
Medgard,” the fortuneteller croaked. “You are an old soul, nursed in the womb
of the mines for millennia. But the mines are not your past. They are your
future. There you will find the answers you seek.”
Wind shook the tent. “What answers? How do you know my name?
Let go, you’re hurting me!”
A smile crept across her blank face, and the burning ribbon
floated down and bound their arms together. “I have tracked you your whole life,
Edwin Medgard of the mines. Out of this crater, past Newick, it is the age of
man. Today’s world wouldn’t recognize you. But there are Others like you,
Others with
mahrs
split from the First, the Thirteen, Others who will
follow you—Others in the mines.”
Edwin leaned forward. “That’s not possible. The
villagers—”
“The villagers are hypocrites. Chardwick guards old,
forgotten ways its villagers don’t understand. They fight true power with
relics and stolen magic. They will destroy you and everything else in the mines
if given the chance.”
“How do I find the Others? What should I do?”
The ribbon left their arms and circled the woman’s face.
“Let your
mahr
guide you.”
“My spirit?”
The fortuneteller nodded. “It has gone by many names:
mahr
,
daemon, shedu, spirit, passenger. You must go into the mines, but not until you
are ready, for they are dangerous. Dark slayers from times past infest every
corridor.”
“But I just want to be normal,” Edwin cried. He felt sick,
caught between the woman’s words and the spirit’s efforts to escape.
“That is one thing you will never be. Your presence in
Chardwick is causing the mines to destabilize. Dark times are coming. As long
as you are here, you and your
mahr
are in danger—but you cannot
leave. Newick is no safer—the answers you seek are in the mines. The
mines will show the way. Until then you will be a danger to yourself and to
those around you.”
Thinking of the nightmare his spirit showed him, Edwin thought
of his mother’s fear in the mines as she ran, and the relief she felt when she
found herself aboveground. His mouth felt dry. “How do you know any of this?
Why should I believe you?”
“Knowing what I should not is what I do, little one. I sense
great potential in you, but it is unfocused. You know nothing of what you are.
Without purpose your power will consume you. And if it does not, there is
always Chardwick…” She dropped his arms and droplets of blood fell from her
fingernails. “…and should you remain in Chardwick you will perish.”
With those words the ribbon exploded into a handful of
flickering lights. Edwin rubbed his arms and felt the spirit settle as he
watched the dots of flickering light come together to take on the shape of the Lucent.
His glowing form grew until it filled the entire tent. Then, with one swift
movement the old man grabbed a sword of light and hurled it at the ground.
Edwin cried out and tried to jump out of the way.
Behind him the air died down and the lights settled. He
didn’t wait to see what happened next, and the fortuneteller made no effort to
stop him as he ran out the fold in her tent, which he now had no trouble
finding.
Outside, the crowd was still going strong, but he pushed his
way through until he was under the arch and out the gate. As soon as he was
away from the fair and was walking the streets alone, he released the spirit
and began retching.
Past the arch, away from the fair, Edwin finally found the
air to speak. “What was that?” he asked.
The spirit crackled red with indignation. “That woman
ensslaved my essence. I wass powerless.”
Edwin stood doubled over his knees in the middle of the
empty road. Behind him was the loud hum of the fair.
“Come, we musst move. We mussn’t forget your hand.”
“Where are we going?”
“The pass.”
“We’re leaving Chardwick? Where will we go?” Edwin asked,
almost hopeful, but the spirit didn’t stay to answer; it floated down the road
towards the pass, just slow enough that Edwin could keep up if he ran. The
village was empty away from the fair, and, running fast, it wasn’t long before
Edwin and the spirit were at the bottom of the pass.
“Now where?” Edwin asked, still trying to catch his breath.
He knew that if they started climbing there would be no reason to stop before
they reached the inn.
“It is in the treess.”
In the starlight Edwin could just make out the small patch
of trees at the edge of town. It was the same patch his mother had run through
all those years before. Once he was off the road, it was easy for Edwin to see
why this small outcrop of trees was undeveloped. Because of the incline of the
pass, any rock that fell off the cliffs in the area was funneled there. As a
result, even with layers of snow, the ground was uneven and littered with
boulders and tree branches torn asunder.
The climb up the patch of snow was steep and slippery.
Although he knew the patch of trees was small, he was impatient to see what the
spirit wanted to show him here. “Can you tell me what this surprise is yet?” he
asked.
“Soooon.”
The spirit’s dark form blended in with the night, but it
crackled occasionally so Edwin could follow. They didn’t travel far before they
were almost to the cliff face. “Look in front of you,” the spirit said.
Edwin squinted but saw nothing worth seeing. There were only
a few trees, the cliff up ahead, and more snow.
“Look,” it hissed. “It’ss right in front of you.” The spirit
crackled and glowed red a moment. Without the spirit’s light it looked like any
other shadow, but now he saw that there was a small hole in the snow.
“What is it?” Edwin asked.
“A fox hole, and inside is a real live fox. I checked.”
Still sitting in the deep snow, Edwin scowled. “Our backup
plan is a fox?”
“Jusst a little thing. Nothing you can’t handle.”
“Easy for you to say. It can’t bite
you
,” he said, but
he knew he would do whatever the spirit told him. “What do you want me to do?”
Suddenly there was the sound of crunching snow behind him,
and Edwin jumped. Turning, he saw nothing, but the noise continued. Someone was
climbing the snow bank and heading towards him. “Who’s there?” he called.
Ashton walked out from behind a tree. “I think the better
question is why is little Edwin here?” he said in his high, nasal voice.
Edwin was shocked. “Ashton, what’re you doing here?”
Ashton replied in his normal haughty manner. “Following you,
obviously. You weren’t given permission to leave Hawthorne.”
Feeling like someone had knocked the wind out of him, Edwin
stammered, “But… But… How long have you been following me?”
“Since you left. I lost you at the fair, but luckily Sam pointed
me in the right direction and said I’d better get you back to Hawthorne.”
“But… But you shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. Why
didn’t you just stop me when I left?”
In the moonlight Ashton’s smile appeared the way Edwin
imagined death might look. “At first I wanted to see what was so important that
you would deliberately disobey our Headmistress.”
“Or you thought she would reward you better for catching me
in my dirty little deed than stopping it from ever happening,” Edwin retorted.
Ashton shrugged. “Well, there was that too. But then I lost
you, so when I found you again I wanted to see where you were going. Why you
would come here is anybody’s guess…. Why
did
you come here?”
The spirit was rubbing itself against Edwin’s back to remind
him why they were there, and he felt determined to stay and finish what he had
started. He couldn’t leave, not now, not with the cure right in front of him.
Setting his jaw defiantly, he knew that tonight, no matter what else happened,
he would heal his hand. “Ashton, you need to leave now.”
Almost a cackle, Ashton laughed contemptuously. “You don’t
seem to understand your position. Do you know what the Headmistress is going to
do when I tell her you left Hawthorne tonight?”
“Ashton, I don’t have time for this. Go. Go tell
Headmistress Vanora. Go do whatever you want. Just go and leave me alone.”
Ashton’s queer smile left his face, replaced by loathing. “I
had hoped you were different, but you’re just like all the others. And you must
be put in your place.”
Now it was Edwin’s turn to laugh. “And you’re the one who’s
going to put me there? You’re a joke.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going
anywhere. Hadn’t you better run off to your Headmistress now?”
His smug smile gone, Ashton advanced towards him, and Edwin feared
he had miscalculated. Ashton had never seemed like the type to act alone; he
was supposed to threaten him and storm off. Edwin backed up a few steps, but
there was nowhere to go with the cliff behind him. When Ashton grabbed him by
the arm, Edwin yelled, “Let go of me!” He sensed the spirit’s growing
agitation. “I said let go!” Whispering a few words, he called the spirit into
him, knowing that Ashton would be no match for their combined strength. Ashton
looked shocked by the sight of the smoke rushing into Edwin’s mouth, but even
so, when Edwin tried jerking his arm away, Ashton held tight. He realized the
spirit was holding back, and he wondered whether the spirit was worried about
Ashton getting hurt.
Being so much taller than him, it didn’t matter that Ashton
appeared to be slight and weak, and he easily hefted Edwin into the air. Edwin
barely had time to wonder why the spirit wasn’t helping him; Ashton was about
to put Edwin over his shoulder when Edwin felt the spirit’s hunger beginning to
overwhelm his own senses. He realized too late what was coming. In a desperate
effort, he began pulling Ashton’s hair, trying to get down, to get away.
“Let go of me!” Ashton yelled.
Edwin was on his shoulder now. Balling his hurt hand into a
fist, he banged it against Ashton’s back and cried out in pain, but he kept
banging, kept squirming, kept yelling to be put down, kept doing everything he
could to break free.
“Edwin, stop this at once! I am an Oculus. You can’t do
this!”
Realizing that he had made a mistake in calling the spirit
into him, Edwin didn’t let go, and he tried to quell the spirit’s will inside
him. He wanted only its confidence and strength, not this. Ashton seemed to be
losing his grip, but not quickly enough.
As heat began to rise between his hand and Ashton’s hair, he
saw that the woods were filling with gold light. Suddenly he heard Ashton gasp,
and the night became momentarily brighter. As Ashton became dust, Edwin fell to
the ground, covered in soot. Coughing, he pulled himself to his knees. Under
him, smashed into the snow, were Ashton’s crumpled clothes, lying on top of
which was his Oculus button.
* * *
Snow, he knew, wasn’t the best place to bury Ashton’s
clothes, but at least it would hide them until spring. While he dug, Edwin couldn’t
help but wonder if this wasn’t the spirit’s plan all along. It had to have known
Ashton was following them, and he wondered whether there was really a fox in
that hole. He wanted to release the spirit and ask, but he was too afraid of
what the answer would be.
After a great while passed, he tried to lift himself to go,
but he sank back to the ground. His muscles felt weak, like rubber. He had
never liked Ashton but he never wanted him to die, and he didn’t know how he could
have let this happen.
But even as he cursed his stupidity, he couldn’t help but
notice how much better he felt. He was whole again; death no longer crept up
his arm. No, he realized he wasn’t just whole; he was better than whole. His
clothes felt snug for the first time in his life, and he wondered if he had
grown. In absorbing Ashton he had done more than heal himself: He had taken
more energy than he needed, and he could feel that extra power coursing through
his body, looking for an outlet. The perverse thought crossed his mind that
regardless of the source, having too much energy was infinitely better than
having too little.
“Stop it!” he yelled. He could sense the spirit gloating
inside him. “I know you did this on purpose. You made me kill someone. Don’t
you understand that? I would never be able to feel this way, this callous,
without you. I
hate
you.”
His spirit couldn’t hide its glee, and after a while Edwin
cried himself out and rose again to go. He tried to remember what the spirit
had said about the fortuneteller, something about her enslaving its essence,
and he wondered if it was something she could teach him. It was too late to go
back to the fair—Headmistress Vanora and the others would be leaving
soon, if they hadn’t left already, and he still had to change back into his
uniform—but he knew he had to return and find out what the fortuneteller
knew.
The fair would still be there tomorrow.